


mortal choices (loose red thread)

by runtlock



Series: red threads that tie [2]
Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Return Ending (Sekiro)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runtlock/pseuds/runtlock
Summary: His eyes go wide when he lays them on Wolf. “...Sekiro?”Wolf says nothing. They cannot communicate through their bond anymore, but they have not always needed words. Genichiro looks a little older, but time has been kind to him.Genichiro and Wolf reunite after five years.
Relationships: Genichiro Ashina/Sekiro | Wolf
Series: red threads that tie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022844
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	mortal choices (loose red thread)

The journey back to Japan takes much longer— Wolf cannot count on second chances, on the taste of sakura and blood in the back of his throat as he rises again. Immortality has been severed. The Divine Dragon has fallen into a great eternal sleep in his birthplace, soothed to slumber by the combined souls of the Divine Child of the Cradle and the Divine Heir.

His mind has been his alone for nearly three years now.

There is no guarantee that Genichiro still lives or that Ashina still remains. When their bond was severed from returning the Divine Dragon to sleep, Genichiro’s heart was still beating. There is no telling if the Central Forces have tried to invade Ashina again, and without the divine blood, Genichiro has no second chances. Wolf tries to put these concerns out of mind. He has made it this far; Ashina remains only another week away on foot.

Japan is less wartorn than he remembers, but ronin wander the lands now. They make for dangerous adversaries and are rarely willing to answer questions. He adjusts his scarf and stays wary as he forges onward.

* * *

Ashina remains.

In fact, she not only remains, but she prospers.

The wartorn architecture that Wolf remembers leaving behind nearly five years ago now is no longer there, replaced by firm, new, and fortified stone walls. He does not know if Ashina will still recognize him, but he does not want to raise a hand against Genichiro’s people. He keeps his footsteps light and sticks to the grass and tree branches, staying out of sight.

He’s almost to the castle proper. He pulls on the grapple, flinging himself over the top of the gate. He lands on the ground, crouched low, before realizing his mistake. He puts a hand preemptively on the handle of Kusabimaru. There’s a figure in a cloak in front of him, by the tree. The figure whirls around, revealing a red masked face.

“You scared me!”

The voice is young, feminine. The figure is wearing what Wolf recognizes to be Isshin’s old Tengu mask. They are dressed in a similar outfit, a black kimono and hakama with wraps over their arms and ankles, a sword hanging by their side. However, instead of a straw cloak, they wear a heavy, oversized cloak. It’s Genichiro’s— he realizes with a start. The black fabric is torn in the left shoulder, ripped and frayed, blue flowers adorning the lower trim. He lets go of his sword hilt. They have a longbow on their back, tied in place with a jute rope, looped over their front.

“Who…”

They stand in the same elegant way Isshin used to hold himself, straight-backed, regal. “Oh…” They tilt their head at him, seemingly eyeing his left arm. “Prosthetic… is it you? The one Father has been waiting for?”

 _Father_ _._ Did Genichiro…?

“Come with me.”

They take their bow off their back and pull a metal, hook-like arrowhead from the middle of their waist. It appears attached by a pulley mechanism similar to the grapple in his prosthetic arm. The hook-like arrowhead lengthens into an arrow shaft. They take aim and shoot it up into the sky. The hook lands atop the roof shingles, catching. The mechanism pulls, tugging the figure up into the air. They catch their hands on the edge of the roof and climb up before turning to look down at him expectantly.

Ashina has developed improved tools in the time he’s been gone. Perhaps Emma has picked up more from the Sculptor than she led on. He recalls her tinkering with her own tools in the time after the invasion.

He flings his grappling hook up to follow the figure, who has yet to give their name.

* * *

They lead him across the rooftops towards the central tower, where the rooftop dojo is. It has been fixed up since Wolf was last here. The tatami flooring is new and there are no bloodstains on it. The wall is lined with inked paintings of the Ashina arts.

“I have a good hunch where he is,” they say absently. They pull open the familiar doors of the dojo that lead inside. “If Father isn’t here, then he’s probably got his nose in the financial records again.”

Wolf doesn’t say anything. They glance over their shoulder at him.

“Not much of a talker _and_ you’ve got silent footsteps.” Their laughter is muffled behind the wooden Tengu mask. “You must be him.”

They do not elaborate, leaving Wolf to wonder how much Genichiro has told this person about him. He follows them down the stairs, and past the meditation room to a lower floor. There’s a long hallway on a level Wolf is not familiar with. He trails behind them as they confidently stride down to the sliding doors at the end.

It appears to be a storage room for documents. There are shelves of bound papers and texts. The middle of the room is devoid of shelves, instead creating space for a solitary low table. The tabletop is covered with messy scraps of paper. A pot of ink sits next to a brush laid over a wooden rest, dripping ink into a dish. Someone stands in the back of the room, leafing through an old book impatiently.

The figure is unmistakably Genichiro, even with his back turned to them. Broad-shouldered and tall, the black haori he’s wearing is embossed with the Ashina crest in fine gold thread. His hair is long now, pulled together in a loose, full braid behind his back, the tail end of it over the small of his back, cutting the Ashina crest in two.

“Father!”

“Tomoe,” Genichiro’s voice sounds exasperated. He clicks his tongue as he flips through another few pages of the book. He’s apparently unable to find what he’s looking for, because he snaps the book closed and puts it back on the shelf. He rolls his shoulders, irritated, as he turns around.

“Where have you—” His eyes go wide when he lays them on Wolf. “...Sekiro?”

Wolf says nothing. They cannot communicate through their bond anymore, but they have not always needed words. Genichiro looks a little older, but time has been kind to him. His eyes are warm, the bags under his eyes softer. The long hair suits him, Wolf thinks faintly. The strands that are too short to stay in the braid fall loose over his ears and along his jaw.

“Sekiro,” Genichiro says again. His name coming from the man’s mouth is something Wolf hadn’t realized he missed. The lord crosses the room slowly, his expression just a touch wondrous. He stops a modest few feet from him. “I hadn’t thought…”

Genichiro reaches up before faltering, letting his hand fall back down by his side.

“You returned to me.”

“I returned to Ashina,” Wolf corrects softly.

“Of course.” Genichiro’s eyes grow warm. “You are not my shinobi.”

Tomoe looks between them, the nose of their Tengu mask swaying from the movement. They tug their mask off, pushing it to rest atop their head, revealing a young face with bright, sharp eyes. They have a small mole under their lip, and a scar across the bridge of their nose. Wolf surmises they must be around fifteen or sixteen, from the softness still in their cheeks. Their fingers are calloused. 

"I see you've met my daughter." Genichiro puts his hand gently on her shoulder. She flicks her gaze up to him, pursing her lips and quirking an eyebrow at him. "I adopted her shortly after you left. Tomoe, heir to the Ashina clan."

“So he _is_ the one you have been waiting for.” Tomoe turns her gaze over him again, taking in his visage carefully. “Father speaks highly of your skill. And the samurai have talked often of a skilled one-armed shinobi during the invasion years ago.”

Wolf does not reply, but he tips his head to her in a nod. He can be brash and disrespectful with Genichiro, but his daughter does not deserve his ill temper and poor manners.

Genichiro steps forward one step. They are barely more than a foot apart; he is too close to be friendly and he does not care if his indiscretion is witnessed by his daughter. He has talked of Wolf often to her, after all. He must not be ashamed of their relationship.

His eyes are warm when he looks at Wolf and his gaze meaningfully flicks over to Tomoe. "Would you serve a new lord?"

"Yes," Wolf says, and he is surprised to hear how easily the agreement comes out.

He kneels down slowly on one knee in front of her. He looks up at her, taking in her surprised expression before bowing his head again. "My lady and lord Tomoe. I pledge my life in your service."

"Me?" Tomoe's voice is soft.

"You have never had a shinobi assigned to serve you," Genichiro says. "I had hoped he would return."

There is a long pause before Tomoe shuffles closer. He keeps his gaze lowered to the ground and feels when she puts her hand gently on his head.

"My shinobi," she says, and there is a tentative affection in her voice. She trusts him, not because he has given her reason to, but because she loves and trusts her father.

"Raise your head."


End file.
